


Vanity

by Devcon03



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Beta Read, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devcon03/pseuds/Devcon03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a new approach to peace between the fractions puts Megatron in an interesting, if not inappropriate position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reddle](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Reddle).



> Written as a birthday gift for Reddle.

Megatron wasn't a vain mech – not by seeker-standard, anyway. It wasn't that he didn't care about his looks, but he was a warrior model, made for hardship and battle. Looks didn't matter, never had, and he was reluctant to show off that way. His function was far more important than what others saw in him. He'd recently learnt, however, that some bots found him attractive. At first he'd been annoyed, then he'd noticed how useful that could be. Take his Decepticons – they feared him, but they _also_ followed his frame with hungry optics. After much thought, he decided to keep their interest alive, and spent some time on grooming himself until he shone.

The results were most satisfying. Starscream, nevertheless, dared to insult him, calling him ugly as slag. This didn't stop the Pit-spawn from staring at his aft whenever he felt like it, and at the most inappropriate moments at that.

Starscream wasn't the only one who stared at his aft. He'd got similar response from Shockwave and a few others over the years, but no bot was foolish enough to make an advance at their lord. At the most, he was given heated looks and the occasional, lingering touch. It didn't bother him _too_ much – if it raised the morale of his troops, then be it. Attraction was a powerful instrument in the hands of the right mech, after all. 

What he _hadn't_ expected was the sudden interest coming from the enemy camp. It was bad enough that Starscream gave him those looks, and he'd never expected the Prime to do the same. It confused him, and brought a strange sensation in his tank along. He blamed Earth's atmosphere for it, or possibly a glitch that the slagging medic somehow had missed. Optimus Prime, he firmly told himself, was as rigid and untouchable as a statue. He was the Prime, for Pit's sake! 

And a Prime did _not_ stare at his Nemesis' aft. 

He'd noticed the change in the Prime's behavior a while ago, but he'd kept it to himself. The thought of mentioning heated looks and Optimus Prime in the same sentence was embarrassing enough. It made him all too aware of... things. Things like the fact that the Prime baited him a little too often into a physical confrontation. It had never bothered him in the past – every punch he delivered felt good, but things had changed. When they met, there was a tension he'd never noticed before, and even though they fought dirty, Optimus had ceased to actually damage him. 

No, instead the fool insisted on groping him, and it happened _every slagging time_ they met on the battlefield. 

This cycle was no exception. 

*~*~*

”Give up, Megatron!”

Megatron snorted, checking his balance as he was forced backwards. He didn't like the look of that axe, and the ground was treacherous, icy in the worst way possible. He would have to concentrate to stay on his peds, and that didn't suit him at all. He drew a deep intake, gritted his denta, and reminded himself that this just another meaningless skirmish. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing overly exciting. He rolled his optics when Optimus repeated his little demand, and activated his battle-protocols, sub-spacing his favoured weapon. 

”Give up?” He laughed. Oh, that was just priceless. He advanced, morning-star striking forward, forcing the Prime to back off. ”Did I damage your logic chip, Prime? I'm sure I heard you request my surrender,” he said, vocals harsh. 

Optimus snarled and moved quickly, getting in under his guard, throwing himself at Megatron. He pushed hard, but Megatron held his ground. When Optimus suddenly let go of the ax and gripped his wrist, Megatron was forced to release his own weapon. He hit the Prime and returned the favour, locking them in place. Like this, they were unable to move, crushing each-others hands. It was a draw, at the best.

Megatron growled, tensing under the pressure. He was strong, far stronger than the Prime, but the slagger could draw from the Matrix hidden in his chest-plate. It was unfair, but Megatron wasn't a tyrant for nothing. Optimus needed the Matrix to match _him_ , not the other way around. Besides, if raw strength was all that mattered now, Megatron would not be the one to lose. He pushed harder still, venting hard, not really aware of what went on behind them. He could hear shouts, thought he heard Starscream giving orders, but he had only optics for his nemesis. 

”You will,” Optimus said. The glitch then proceeded to give Megatron a look over, his blue optics narrowing in what could only mean a smile. ”And your aim suck's slag, Megatron. Perhaps you should give another altmode a try.”

Megatron snapped. He gave a strangled shout, and punched the Prime straight in the face for his disrespect. The impact forced Optimus away from him, but the glitch caught himself in time and didn't fall. Megatron glared when Prime stepped forward again, ignoring the battle-axe by his peds. He rolled his shoulders and revved his engines at Megatron, never once reaching for the axe, as if he didn't need it to deal with Megatron. Megatron gaped – it was such an arrogant display of dominace that his spark swelled, pulsing madly in its chamber. Something coiled in his tank, hot and wrong. At first he didn't recognise it, but his valve grew slick, and he just _knew_. 

Confusion gave way to dismay – he hadn't felt desire for countless years, and it took him by surprise. He clenched his jaws, refusing to acknowledge the rising of his core temp. He was _Megatron_ , and he did not lust after anybot! He was suddenly furious with the Prime, but when they locked optics, Megatron found that he couldn't look away. Optimus was closing in on him again, moving with a predator's grace, prowling. Megatron seethed at his own reaction, cursed himself. The Morningstar lay just a few steps away, but somehow he couldn't will himself to dive for it.

He almost lost his footing when the Prime's fields came in contact with his own. The heat and pressure robbed him of breath, and he couldn't process under the onslaught that was Optimus' emotions. He was surrounded by them, and he couldn't ignore them. They lit him from within, made his sensors crave touch. He swallowed hard. There was something in the Autobot's gaze – something wicked, and hot enough to burn from a distance. Cannon forgotten, Megatron watched the Prime approach, curling his hands into fists. 

”Give up,” Optimus said softly, circling him in. His fields were crackling with restrained energy, not all of it aggression. ”Surrender, or I'll make you yield.”

Megatron lifted his helm, summoning a smile that didn't reach his optics. ”Me, yield? To the likes of _you_...? You are glitching, Autobot. Perhaps you should ask that rabid medic of yours to evaluate your processor, because you are clearly malfunctioning!” 

Optimus didn't answer him, but his fields said enough. Megatron snarled and lifted his arm, ready to shoot him in the face at the first mention of his aim, but the cog-sucker ran and slammed his full weight straight into him instead. Megatron fell, screaming in rage. The Prime wasted no time, and a moment later Megatron was firmly pinned to the ground. He gasped and fought for dominance, but for all his might, he still couldn't break Optimus' grip. He bucked and writhed, and got nowhere – he was restrained, wrists held in place above his helm. After a few kliks he cycled a tired sigh and met the Prime's gaze. 

”What do you _want_ , Prime?”

”Your surrender,” Optimus replied. 

Megatron laughed in his face, finding the situation hilarious. Give up? _Surrender?_ There would never be such a thing! He bared his denta and resumed his struggle. He was about to snarl a reply, when he felt a ripple of excitement in Optimus' fields. It was accompanied by a throaty, warning growl. The sound went straight to Megatron's valve, made it produce lubricant. He stared at his nemesis in bewilderment, suddenly aware of the Prime's core temp, and how it kept rising. Megatron drew a stuttering intake, forcing his vents to calm down. Was the Prime...? No, of course not! He swallowed, cursing himself for seeing things that weren't there. 

Optimus Prime had never been attracted to _any_ bot. He was too pristine, full of idealistic scrap, and so saintly it was disgusting! Everybot knew that the Matrix bearer was pure as unprocessed energon. Then why did it feel like he was about to be devoured? 

_Such folly,_ Megatron thought, curling his lips into a sneer. Optimus Prime was a formidable enemy, incredibly strong and skilled in battle. He was all that stood in the way between him and victory! He was-

 _...staring at Megatron, pressing his wrists into the dirt, pushing closer, growling softly._

Megatron's armour feel too tight all the sudden, and that growl sent a bolt of lust all the way to his spinal struts. He gasped and arched, curling into the Prime before falling back with a grunt. He no longer fought to get away, and held perfectly still, his intakes coming painfully shallow. His optics widened as he tried to understand what had just happened. Slag, but he was down right desperate to find excuses to his own behavior. He even thought of a thousand different ways to explain it, but it was too late. It had probably been too late from the moment Optimus had tripped him. 

He shivered all the sudden, and his fields fluctuated wildly. He glared at the Prime, but the small sample the glitch had taken from him only confirmed what both already knew. His rival gave a satisfied purr, looked so arrogant and proud, that Megatron wanted to strangle him. He'd never reacted to the Prime's proximity like this before, but he couldn't possibly hide it – where their fields met and mingled, sparks arose. In the back of his helm, he had the nagging sensation of Optimus Prime being turned on. 

It was so wrong, but it still gave Megatron's ego a feverish boost. Suddenly he felt curious rather than nervous. What if...? What if the Prime meant something entirely different when he spoke of a surrender? He swallowed hard, then licked his dry lips. The ground was uncomfortable, and the angle of his aft forced his hips up, but the Prime's weight, and the warmth it produced, made him forget all about it. It _was_ lust he saw in those optics, and Megatron felt it too. Surrender could mean different things, under the right circumstances. And, he could play this game, if so only to get a rise out of the Prime, and get the upper hand in a rather awkward situation. It annoyed him that this was a plan worthy of his treacherous second in command. This was, after all, how _Starscream_ plotted against the universe in general, but it had its uses. 

A plan formed in Megatron's processor, and it involved activities that made him flush. It didn't matter, he told himself. He could go through with it – the Prime was practically begging for it. He promptly ignored the fact that so did he. Besides, it wasn't every day Optimus Prime revved his engines like that, was it now? For all the years they'd fought, he'd never heard that pitch, and he'd certainly never felt the Autobot's fields caress his own. It... felt surprisingly good. He shuttered his optics and arched slightly, slowly spreading his thighs for his nemesis. He drew a deep intake and looked up, gave the Prime a nonchalant smirk. The fool was amused, his optics not just too-bright, but drunk with victory. 

Megatron tried to break Optimus' grip, but found himself properly caught. The glitch took the invitation, and pushed in between his thighs. Megatron swallowed a moan, furious at himself for noticing the heat from the Prime's panel against his own. It felt good. It felt _right_. Megatron hadn't been expecting that. And the surprises weren't over yet, because Optimus' battle-mask suddenly slid back, offering Megatron a visual of a face he'd often wondered about. He lost the track of thoughts – the Prime had a _mouth_ , with actual lips. He stared at the beautifully formed lips like a starving mech presented with a banquet. 

He snapped out of it when Optimus leant down and nuzzled him. Megatron shuddered, trying to take control over his frame. The Prime sighed softly and licked his lips, ever so slowly. It was far more intimate than Megatron had expected, and it made him tense. 

”What are you doing?”

He got no answer, but the lick was closely followed by a nip to his lower lip. It stung, made it all too real. Megatron growled and shifted beneath his nemesis. ”This is ridiculous, Prime. I'd rather punch your face instead of... of _this_.”

Because he could feel warmth radiate from the Prime's codpiece, and it did things unholy to him. Optimus' optics narrowed, and he ground down, drawing a gasp from Megatron. Heat rushed to his faceplates and he squirmed. What was _wrong_ with him?!

”Unhand me, Optimus, or I swear I'll-”

”Have you noticed how quiet it is?”

”... _What?_ ”

He licked his lips, tasting the Prime's oral lubricant, shivering slightly. Optimus revved his engines, and the sound seemed unnaturally loud. Megatron tore his gaze away from those sinfully formed lips, and took the silence in. He moved his helm from side to side, seeing no bot. He shutter-blinked. Where were they, his troops?

”What is this?! Were are my officers, and where is my army?”

”They left on Starscream's command,” Optimus said, watching him closely. ”My Autobots followed mine. There's no bot left, Megatron. It's just you and I now.”

Megatron tried to make sense out of the information he'd been given. It took less than a klik before he snarled. ”You struck a deal with _Starscream_...? You fool! He'll stab you in the back when you least expect it.”

”Oh, I don't know,” Optimus murmured, shifting above him. ”Starscream wants your throne, your Decepticons want fuel and proper reparations, and my Autobots want peace. We figured that everybot could get what they wanted like this.”

Megatron seethed. Had his officers turned their backs on him? Had they betrayed him? Starscream was sparked a traitor, but _Soundwave_...? He'd never showed any signs of wanting anything to do with the Autobots! He stared at the handsome face he'd never seen before and growled. So everybot got what they wanted, eh? In that case... What the slag was Optimus Prime getting out of the deal?

”And what do _you_ want, Prime?”

Optimus leant down again, and this time he ground down hard. Megatron yelped and arched, feeling every vibration where Optimus' interface panel met his armour. He tried to process, but it was getting harder. He glared at the Prime, offering a few, well-chosen oaths, but his optics kept returning to those soft lips. The Prime rocked against him in a rhythm that quickened his spark pulses. He snarled in embarrassment, feeling horribly stupid. He'd been compromised, abandoned alone by those he demanded loyalty of. How dared they leave him in the hands of his rival? He would tear their helms off!

”I want to try a different approach,” Optimus murmured, his lips almost touching Megatron's own, his breath tickling. ”I want to see if we can set our differences aside.”

”Like _this..._?”

”We are alone,” the damned Autobot whispered, licking Megatron's lips again, asking for entrance. When he captured Megatron's lower lip and suckled, Megatron knew the battle was lost. 

_S-Slag it..._

His chest-plate was heaving with each intake he drew, and he felt drunk. His fields were constantly caressed by the Prime's denser ones, setting his sensors on fire. He shifted below his nemesis, angling his hips in pure instinct. He groaned, shuttered his optics, and closed the distance between them. Blast him to the Pit and back, but this was... was _too_ good. 

The first kiss felt like liquid thunder, the second one like plunging from the highest Tower. When Optimus moaned, Megatron responded with a shiver. The kisses were soft, unhurried, and of a shy quality. The Prime held him, but Megatron didn't care. He rubbed his peds against Optimus' sleeker ones, drowning in the tenderness of the moment. It was so sweet that he didn't want it to stop. He gave a sigh and nuzzled his rival, and after a moments thought, slid his panel back. 

Optimus followed his lead, kissing Megatron's jawline. He leant his helm back, giving the Prime access to his vulnerable neck cabling. Each suckling kiss made him curl his toes, made him wonder how long Optimus had dreamt of having him like this. It was oddly empowering. When the Prime bit him, he gasped and arched. He nodded, optics shuttered tightly, and sank into the liquid bliss that was Optimus' doing.

He felt the blunt, rounded tip of his rival's spike against the protective folds of his valve. It slid easily due to all the lubricant his valve produced, made him shudder sweetly. He grunted and lifted his aft off the ground, offering himself. Settling differences through interfacing? He'd never tried that before, but it felt slaggin' fantastic. He moaned, encouraging the Prime to continue, to thrust into the maddening heat of his valve. He needed it, demanded it. He craved it, and the next time the Autobot bit him, he felt the tip of the spike against the rim of his valve. 

”Yes,” Megatron hissed, knowing Optimus would never go through with it unless he'd gotten his consent. ”Yes... _yes_ ,” he muttered, nuzzling Optimus' face. ”Get on with it, Prime. Before I change my mind.”

The deep purr against his audio served as an answer, and then Megatron gasped. He gave a strangled moan, staring at his enemy. The spike was thick and long, and the Prime knew how to work his hips. He'd never thought of that before, but the slagger had perfect hips for it. He kissed his rival, pouring all his passion into the kiss. Before long, he was panting, pushing back at as Optimus fucked him slow and deep. 

The rhythm was maddening, always slow and measured, but the Prime went so deep it almost hurt. Megatron felt every bump and ridge as the spike raked over unused sensors. Their fields had synchronised, and Megatron's pleasure became Optimus', and Optimus' excitement coloured Megatron's reactions. When Megatron pulled, the Prime released his wrists. Megatron curled into the large mech, hands roaming over the broad chest and the sleeker waist. The heat went straight to his processor, clouding it as Optimus worked him towards an overload. 

Megatron's thighs trembled, and his stomach plating tensed as the charge kept rising. He stole one kiss after the other, ardent but slow, just like their coupling. Optimus lifted his aft off the ground, urging Megatron to put his thighs around his waist. Megatron did, and screamed in agonised bliss as his unlikely lover slid all the way in. He gritted his denta and bowed his back, giving Optimus the reins. He was too close already, and his spike pushed against the spike housing. He needed more, needed the friction. A moment later, his spike sprung free, already hard. 

The Prime bit his helm, shifted, and picked the pace up. Megatron curled an trembling hand around his spike, rubbing hard. He was so close...! He shouted at a well-aimed thrust and saw stars. The whole of his frame froze as a wave of painful, processor-shattering bliss drowned him. His spike spilled, coating his midriff with hot transfluid.

”Yes,” Optimus snarled, snapping his hips over and over again. ”Come for me!”

Megatron gasped, optics flaring. He took the punishing pleasure along his rival's dominance, and came again. Above him, Optimus' face was set in a scowl. He was coming too, because Megatron could feel the heat pooling inside him, felt how the spike seemed to grow larger still, and then pulse. He moaned hoarsely, falling back, gasping. 

The Prime lay down over him, his weight comfortable. They were both warm and sticky, tired. Megatron groaned, and Optimus nuzzled him. They stared at each-other until Megatron broke the silence. 

”And this is your idea of peace-making?”

The Autobot smirked, idly stroking Megatron's tired frame. ”Do you have anything better to do?”

”You gave my throne to _Starscream_.”

”Only because I thought you'd like to share mine,” Optimus said, looking far to pleased for Megatron's taste, and then he realised what the fool had implied. Sharing... _Sharing_ the seat of power? Was Optimus willing to compromise?

”You're lying,” he hissed.

”I'm not Starscream,” the Prime murmured, ”and Starscream does not carry the Matrix in his cockpit. There are ways to prove the truth in my words, Megatron, but I don't think you are ready for _that_ step yet.”

That shut Megatron up.

For the longest time neither of them spoke, and then Megatron gave a crisp nod. When he sought Optimus' lips out, he felt the Prime smile. He sank into the pleasure of being held, and his intakes slowed down as their frames cooled down. His spark soon adapted to the slower, stronger beats of the Prime's Matrix-enhanced core. A moment later, their fields harmonised. The kiss they shared was bitter-sweet, but it nevertheless was a first step towards peace. Only time would show if their arrangement bore fruit – but time, he figured as he slipped into sleep, was all they had.


End file.
